Toxic Dose

I'm real careful. when I taste toxic shit. Maybe it doesn't seem that I'm careful, but I am. The barest tongue taste I take of something, and I have a great gag reflex, is not enough to kill a mouse. I might throw up, but, hey, someone has to try it. For years I wore a tee-shirt that said "I Survived Datura" and no one ever asked. I've been listening to African music, simple is probably better. To muddy the water even more, what do we really mean, when we use the word 'intimacy': a specific thing, or a vague concept we keep private? I'm not sure. I merely clamp the lid on any over-flow and divert the water. Not brain surgery. Moving rocks. IMF is not that far from IMD if you look at it closely. The blackberries are blooming, forget a bunch of nonsense. Museum Day yesterday, and as we didn't get everyone out and the place partially cleaned until well after eight, and I'd had a couple of drinks, I stayed in town. Too tired to write, on my feet for 11 hours. A very good day. Several hundred people, with just a lull in the middle of the afternoon. The music was varied, my favorite being a blues/jazz jam upstairs in the afternoon. I want them for an opening and Pegi agrees. Lots of kids, lots of people that had never been to the museum, lots of food. Spent today cleaning up, then getting out ALL the tables and chairs for a wedding reception on Saturday, tomorrow they decorate. K was like a zombie today, after what she had pulled-off yesterday, pretty goddamn impressive; and she had a class of kids to docent, then worked on an art project with them. I was sympathetic, but pretty well toast myself. Needless to say, I didn't clean the house for Neil's visit. A janitor never cleans his own house. Pegi got a Cirque kid to help me today, and it was a godsend. Nothing like a young strong buck, when the primary is dragging ass; but I couldn't freewheel in my mind the same way I do when I'm working alone, which is most of the time, and I missed it. Post Event Reflection. And the crew arrived to power-wash the back of the building, so there was loud noise almost all day, so I missed a chance to think about things in my usual manner. A real issue for me. I reflect more than most people watch TV; also, I went 24 hours without reading a book, which is tapping at my outer limit. It's hard to read a book a day if you miss one, but during the winter, a day off, I bank a few, by reading two, and occasionally three, in a 24 hour period. I can drive right in, when I get to the house, which I take advantage of; but then feel like an idiot, because I didn't ferry anything to the cupboard. I just wanted to get home. The overreaching part of my thought process. Home is where I disconnect from the world at large and just look at the green that encircles me. I don't have a cell phone and I don't have running water and I piss off the edge of the back porch. There's one patch where nothing will grow. No excuses. Piss is toxic, in large amounts, because of the nitrogen, too much of a good thing. The good news is that I can poison a patch now, that will later be extremely fertile. Tomatoes like hot ground, some peppers. I know way too much about dirt. One of the reasons moving to town seemed like a good idea. That I could leave dirt behind But I can't, I keep running my hands through the compost, admiring the soil I create. I don't care what anyone says, it's a little bit of heaven. Night soil and seven stars. Finally, a clear night. What passes for clear, here, what do they know? Nights in Utah I looked at ten million stars, and the sight, the vision of them, was staggering. Here, you get the occasional star, peeking around the edge of a cloud, and it's a big deal. Not a complaint, just an observation. When there sun came out today, both Pegi and I were speechless.